Page 49 of Searching for the Prince
They shook hands and Mettle sat down, he looked a little rough around the edges. “No worries and call me Will. Is Rob all right?”
“Mr Black has been triaged and should be in his room.”
“Right.”
“I’ve got the results of some bloodwork.” Mettle consulted a clipboard. “And they confirm you have a mutated version of Nosferatu virus, where the virus particles have become spectrally enhanced.”
“We knew that already.”
Mettle nodded. “I have also spoken to Mr Black about how that happened, but I’d like to get your version of the events.”
There was nothing accusatory in his tone, but he would bet Robin had been treated more as a victim and less matter-of-factly.
“I picked up the virus from another partner. I know that puts me in a bad light, but I’m working through my issues, and Rob has chosen to forgive me.”
Mettle flicked through the pages. “You were taking cocaine at the time? Are you still using?”
“I used to dabble occasionally, but it turned me into a wanker, so I’ve stopped.”
“Good, and you infected Mr Black?”
“Yeah, a friend of mine told me about a spell that makes sex even better, so I asked Rob to try, and I reckon he picked it up then. We’re usually pretty careful.”
Robin’s story was he been had pressurised into trying dark sex magic by his manipulative boyfriend, but Gwil was to be more blasé, and Mettle didn’t seem to be bothered by his patient being a prize shit.
“I’m not one to judge what goes on between consenting adults. You didn’t deliberately infect your partner, and his variant of the virus is a little different to yours.”
“Do you think you can help me? I mean us.” Another deliberate slip.
“Yes, I think so. The differences mean treating you independently.”
“But we were infected by the same spell at the same time, doesn’t that alter how you would treat us?”
“Your clinical experience is different, so there is no one-stop-shop and it will have an iterative process.”
Gwil hated medical jargon. Mettle would think him too stupid to understand and that would work to their benefit. “I suppose that makes sense. I gathered from the paperwork, we wouldn’t be housed together. Rob might not like that much.” Robin would pretend he wanted them to be together, but it didn’t matter either way.
“We don’t have facilities for couples, there is nothing to stop you from visiting each other but you must sleep apart.”
“Fair enough. To be honest, Rob can get a bit clingy. We could probably do with the space.”
Mettle nodded. “I don’t think it would hurt. This is a safe facility, Will. Take the time you need to recover. We’ll start your treatment plan once the rest of your tests are complete, and I’ll call Nurse Helm to escort you to your room.”
Gwil thought it would be in Mettle’s interests to split them up, Robin’s persona was a rich, easy-to-manipulate individual, whose disease and money would be useful to a lich. If they were able to move around separately then they could cover more ground and the sooner they found Simon the better.
He was shown to a room that was nothing special. He’d bet every room was decked out the same, designed to maintain anonymity and prevent the patients from getting over-excited. After a little persuasion, he’d been able to get directions to Robin’s room, and he checked he had no restrictions in where he could go in the facility apart from staff-only areas.
Once the nurse had finished going through his check-in, he changed into the head-to-toe grey items of clothing that had been left for him and set off to find his pretend boyfriend. The corridors of the main house were as sterile as the wing he’d first experienced, not gelling with his idea of what the vibe of a Georgian manor should be. There were several other patients in the corridors, as well as staff members. He made his way to Robin’s room, the layout of the house uniform and easy to follow—another reason he doubted the house was really of the period.
He knocked on the door, waiting for Robin to answer, having assumed Robin would be there given how long it had taken for him to be triaged and admitted. The door cracked open, and recognising Gwil, Robin beckoned him in.
“Hello, sweetheart, how you feeling?” Gwil said with a smirk.
“Emotionally fragile, darling, but Dr Mettle has vowed to do his best to make everything better. It took every fibre of my self-control not to punch the bastard.”
“He was pretty much matter-of-fact and professional with me, but I’m not a walking bank vault.” He sat on a chair while Robin took the bed. “He also took ages to get to me, I’m way down his interest list, meaning I guess I can wander around and do what the fuck I want.”
“He’s a clever bastard, clearly out to divide and conquer and he’s managed to get away with not being discovered for a long time.”
